A Business of Ferrets
by Polly Lynn
Summary: "Castle!" She pushed him away desperately. "Ferret!" The word sent an icy chill down his spine. . . "Not just a ferret. Not anymore. A business of ferrets." A ridiculous New Year's sequel to "Silent Night, Ferret Night." Both stories were inspired by Muppet47's much more brilliant "Waiting Game."


Title: A Business of Ferrets

Rating: T

WC: ~7000

Spoilers: None really, although this takes place after Secret Santa.

A/N: Um. I have absolutely no excuse for this. I didn't even clear it with Muppet47 (FORGIVE ME MSOLLY IT IS AN HOMAGE) because I *suck*, but I woke up and there was . . . a business of ferrets in my head. Happy New Year, everyone!

* * *

Kate's head poked around the edge of the bedroom door into the office. Castle pointedly ignored it, knowing that she'd see nothing but the bottoms of his socks and the laptop screen resting on his propped up legs. He would have sworn he could hear her blood pressure tick up another notch. He braced for impact. He wasn't going. That was final. He was. not. going.

"Castle, why aren't you dressed?" She marched over to the desk and shoved his feet to the floor. He gave her a dirty look as he jerked forward in the desk chair and just managed to catch the laptop before it slid entirely off his thighs.

"Is there something I should be dressed for?" he asked in a studied, casual tone.

"Don't start." She held up a warning finger and jerked her robe closed as his eyes strayed downward. "We're going to be late as it is."

"Late for what?" His fingers found the end of the tie at her waist and tugged. Pointlessly tugged. The knot was one of her Boy Scout specials, which meant she might actually be serious about this. Bad news for him, but he wasn't giving in without a fight.

"Castle." She slapped his hand away. "Stop surfing porn and get dressed."

"I wasn't surfing porn, I was _writing_."

She snorted indelicately and turned her back on him.

"I wasn't surfing porn," he grumbled, brightening as he enjoyed the view as she walked back into the bedroom.

"Stop ogling and get dressed," she said without turning around. "And don't say you weren't ogling."

"Why would I bother with such a blatant lie?" Castle snapped the laptop closed with a sigh, but didn't get up. She might be serious, but so was he. There was no way. There was just. no. way.

Her face appeared around the doorframe a second later. Her face and one deliciously bare shoulder. _Oooh. Bare shoulder. _Castle set the laptop aside and headed for the bedroom.

She stiff-armed him on his way through the door. "Castle. Look at my face. If you think that I will not drag you there in your ratty-ass bathrobe and your Aquaman boxers, just look at my face."

He wasn't looking at her face. At all. Which was probably why she was able to land such a sound _thwack! _on his arm.

"_Ow!"_ He rubbed his biceps. The bruise from Christmas had finally faded to a sickly green, but so much for that.

She turned away and bent over to pull on a very tiny green pair of underwear with a little red bow. _Festive_.

Castle's head tipped to the side, following the long curve of her everything. "You're not exactly making a convincing argument for looking at your face."

Kate straightened and slipped her arms through the straps of her bra. It matched the tiny underwear, red bow and all. _Not convincing at all._ Maybe she was counting on him to talk her out of it. He could do that. He could _absolutely_ do that.

He slipped his robe off as he took a step toward her, and all of a sudden she was behind him. A sharp crack sizzled through the bedroom accompanied by a stinging sensation on the back of his thigh.

"Castle, I'm not going to tell you again."

He whirled toward her. A dark blur of something sped toward him and landed on his face. He batted his way clear of it. "Did you just _whip _me? With my own shirt?"

"Good, heavy buttons. Nice movement," she remarked. "Now put it on."

"No." He lobbed the shirt back at her. Another crack and a matching sting on the front of his thigh pointed out, almost immediately, how stupid an idea that was "_OW!_"

"Castle!" She jerked her own blouse up over her shoulders. Cherry red and shiny. He missed the matchy green bra, but he had to admit it was a gorgeous color on her. and the million teeny tiny buttons were intriguing, although currently going in the wrong direction courtesy of her nimble fingers. She paused as she reached the level of her cleavage. "Please."

"Stop!" He held up a hand. "That's mean."

"Saying please is mean?" She reached for her jeans. Castle sighed and waved good bye to the tiny green panties.

"No. Using the face and _those _is mean." He gestured vaguely toward her chest, then blinked down at his own arms. They had somehow found their way into the sleeves of the shirt without his consent. "See? Do you _see _what happens when you use the face and those?"

"And my words. Good things happen when you use your polite words, Castle," she said with a grin and an approving pat on his butt as she passed him on her way to the bathroom.

"I'm not going," he called after her. It was thoroughly unconvincing, given that he was doing up his buttons. "I told you Christmas Eve, I am done with favors of . . . that nature."

"It's not a favor. It's therapy. And you owe Lanie." She emerged from the bathroom looking entirely too put together and delicious. Her commitment to this insane plan was clearly questionable. She was practically _begging _him to talk her out of it. "Pants, Castle."

"How do _I _owe Lanie? Of everyone involved how do _I _owe Lanie?"

"You really want me to answer that, pimp daddy?"

"I thought we weren't going to use the _P _word anymore." Castle sat heavily on the bed and started to pull on a pair of jeans.

"You asked." Kate wrinkled her nose. "No, not jeans. Wear the black ones. Your butt looks cute in those."

"My butt looks cute in everything," he grumbled.

"It's going to look cute under my hand if you don't get moving," she said from inside the closet.

She yelped as she turned to find him blocking the doorway.

"You are _really _not making your case for leaving the house, Beckett." He reached for her hips and slid his hands into the back pockets of her jeans. No easy task, given that they fit her like a second skin, but Castle was all about the challenge.

She fought him off half-heartedly with his own dress pants. "Castle . . ."

"Hmmm?" His lips buzzed pleasantly against her throat.

"We have to . . ." She made a noise that had him ramping up his assault. The pants fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers. "Esposito needs us . . . "

"Esposito has Lanie," he rumbled in her ear. "Thanks to me. And he has Jenny and Ryan and the four of them will have a great time without us and we'll have a greater time without them."

"Castle!" She pushed him away desperately. "Ferret!"

The word sent an icy chill down his spine. Bringing up Esposito was bad enough. Bringing up . . . the creature was an instant mood killer. _But matchy _underwear_! _An instant _almost_ mood killer.

He made a move toward her, but she was too quick for him. She scooped up his pants and threw them as a distraction while she made her get away.

Castle sighed and shook out the pants. "Not just _a_ ferret. Not anymore. A business of ferrets."

* * *

"It's not just the ferret . . . ferret_s,_" Castle said suddenly, breaking the heavy silence that had prevailed since they got in the car. _His _car, by the way. Even if he was in the passenger's seat. "It's our first New Year's Eve together."

"I know, Castle. And we'll be out of there long before midnight." She was probably trying to sound patient, but she wasn't exactly pulling it off. She was on edge, too.

He felt like jerk for needling her, but he just couldn't let it go. "But now we don't have any _plans_ since you shot mine down!"

"Finding a way to break into the ball to—and I quote—'have wild monkey sex while it dropped over Time Square' was never a plan, Castle."

"It was totally a plan. I have blueprints and everything!"

"Blueprints?" Her eyes swiveled from the road to him and back again. "Where the hell . . .? You know a guy."

"I know a guy," he said with a smug smile. "And it was _totally _a plan."

"Castle, thanks for doing this." Kate let one hand slip from the steering wheel to rest on his knee.

The smug smile faltered._Touching. No fair. _

"I still want to know what kind of therapist prescribes . . . this kind of thing." He was trying for a grumble, but it was hard to keep it up when he was toying with her fingers and she was letting him, even though she was driving.

"The kind who'll fit a new patient in between Christmas and New Year's. Burke thinks highly of him."

"Good to know." Something in his tone pulled her gaze his way again. He shrugged amicably. "So we'll have someone to sue when this all goes horribly wrong."

"It's _not _going to go horribly wrong." She pulled her fingers away and batted at him, but she was fighting off a grin. "It will go fine and we'll be out of there early."

"With nothing to do." He meant it as a good-natured grouse, but her face fell and there was that old familiar jerk feeling again.

"Castle . . . I know you probably always do something big for New Year's. . . ." He started to say something, but she held up a hand and rushed on. "But after Christmas Eve . . . I'd kind of like the plan to be just us."

A smile bloomed on his face and Kate's shoulders slipped down a couple of vertebrae.

"I love the plan being us," Castle said quietly as he caught her hand again. He brought it to his lips and nipped at her fingertips. "Us and matchy underwear. Best plan ever."

* * *

The sex den was gone. Most of it, anyway. The disturbing baby tree still lurked in the corner, but at least there was no readily visible conception wedge or cheap do-it-yourself harem fabric waiting to send the whole place up in flames. Castle wondered idly how long it had taken to vacuum up all the teeny tiny foil baby punch outs and if they had saved the maimed cherubs or recycled them.

The fact that the sex den was mostly gone pretty much began and ended the list of things to be thankful for, Castle noted as he sipped at his tiny glass of sickly sweet punch and tried ignore the quiet chirping emanating from the cage sitting in the middle of coffee table.

It had rainbow sherbet in it. The punch, not the cage. Actually, the cage might have sherbet in it for all he knew. It was currently draped in some thankfully nondescript cloth. But the punch had rainbow sherbet. Rainbow sherbet and absolutely no alcohol.

"None for me, now that we're trying," Jenny had said with a blush as Castle handed the punch bowl down from a high cabinet. "And Kevin's so sweet. He says he won't touch a drop as long as I can't, so we got rid of it all."

Since Christmas Eve and the glögg situation, the thought of alcohol had made Castle a little green. But he'd never entertained the idea of having to get through _this _without at least the possibility of some liquid courage.

Castle had smiled politely. At least he had hoped it was polite. He'd been more concerned with repressing sex-den-related flashbacks at the time. He still was. Both, actually—repression and hoping for politeness.

Kate was staring daggers at him, so probably not so much on the latter. The former wasn't going swimmingly, either.

Kevin and Jenny were a naturally affectionate couple and still practically newlyweds to boot. But every touch—every caress and innocent kiss—took on a vaguely sinister cast once you'd seen the thing in the tub. Especially if you still didn't actually know what the thing in the tub was.

Neither of Castle's main problems was helped by the fact that the entire reason he was not, at this very moment, hard at work on Beckett's fascinatingly tiny buttons had yet to show up. The plan—a plan put together entirely without his input—had been for the four of them to establish a comfortable, safe atmosphere and for Lanie to bring Esposito along a little later.

It was a _lot _later now and no one had heard from them. Castle thought there surely had to be some kind of one-hour rule for ferret therapy. They were all tense and the conversation was lagging.

Castle felt like he'd done his part to keep the evening from being a total loss. And Jenny, at least, had seemed interested to know that multiple ferrets were called "a business." And maybe she had been at one point, but her eyes had glazed over long before he'd exhausted his encyclopedic knowledge of collective animal nouns. He could see that—any completely sober idiot could see that—but he couldn't stop himself. At least he was _trying. _

"Should we call?" Ryan said finally.

"Maybe," Kate said hesitantly at the exact same moment that Castle practically shouted, "Yes."

But Jenny shook her head firmly. "Kevin, you know we can't. The doctor said we had to be careful to put as little pressure on Javier as possible."

The three of them deflated. Jenny seemed to realize that the burden of keeping up morale fell on her.

"But this is fun, right? New Year's Eve with good friends and the grandkids?" She smiled uncertainly.

The rest of them exchanged guilty looks. No one wanted to be responsible for the uncertain smile.

"So there are nine . . ." Kate trailed off.

"Kits. Baby ferrets are called kits." Castle blurted.

Kate's hand found its way from her own lap to the outside of his thigh for a grateful squeeze. And then Jenny gave him a bright smile. _Pointless trivia for the win_.

The smile and the surreptitious squeeze—especially the surreptitious squeeze—were almost enough to compensate for the twisting sensation in his stomach. Almost_. _Because Nine? _NINE!? _When Ryan had called in the middle of the night to let them know that the blessed event had begun, Castle hadn't asked about the final tally. He hadn't wanted to know.

"It's a good-sized litter," Ryan said with an unmistakable note of pride. "Sometimes they can have up to eighteen, but nine is a good size."

"Eighteen!" Kate's nails bit into the fabric of Castle's pants, seam and all.

Castle wanted to grab her, look deep into her eyes, and murmur, "I know. _I KNOW!" _He settled for twining his fingers through hers and hanging on for dear life.

By the grace of some merciful being, Ryan's phone buzzed just then. He glanced at the screen and relief washed over him. "They're on their way. They should be here in 15 minutes or so."

The relief was contagious. Kate flashed him such a brilliant smile that he couldn't resist leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. It landed a little too close to _that_ particular spot near her ear and the smile became a heated look and a lot of mental gymnastics on his part in search of a plausible errand that would get them ten minutes of privacy._ Five minutes._ He could work with five minutes.

He was willing Kate to look at him in the hopes of getting her on board for planning purposes, but something was distracting her. He turned his head to follow her gaze and all mental gymnastics came to a sudden halt.

Jenny was opening the cage. She was _opening the cage _and suddenly all the psychological protection offered by the mildly amusing term "business" crumbled as they were faced with the reality of ferrets _en masse._ The disgusting, writhing, chirping reality.

It was bad. It was so much worse than Castle had imagined. The big one—Lila—fixed him with a beady stare. Like she knew him. Like she remembered. Like she was biding her time.

The little ones were awful. Unspeakably awful. The were gathered in a circle around something. Their pink, hairless little bodies were undulating in disturbing synchrony. It was _awful_.

And that was before Jenny screamed.

* * *

"Horribly wrong."

The two words slipped out. Castle was trying—he was really _trying_—but they slipped out. He regretted it instantly.

The last vestiges of pissed off fell away from Kate leaving nothing but misery.

"Kate, I'm sorry."

"Castle, I'm sorry."

Their words overlapped exactly and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms. That was completely off the table at the moment, because he was holding the bag.

He had literally been left holding the bag—again—and someday in the distant future, that would probably be a hilarious detail that he played up when he told the story to their grandchildren.

_Actual _grandchildren, not squirming, disturbingly hairless, blind grandchildren. _Blind_. That should have made him feel better. Like he had some kind of advantage. But there was no better here. Better had left the building when he'd been left holding the bag.

Jenny's plan had been for the four of them to play with the kits and tire them out so they'd be calm and content by the time Esposito and Lanie showed up. But then she'd opened the cage to find mother and eight of the kits gathered around the ninth, wriggling and chirping in horrible, mostly hairless agitation. The ninth wasn't moving.

Castle had to hand it to Ryan. He had kept it together and formulated a plan in, like, under three minutes.

It was more—a lot more—than Castle could say for himself. Kate had shoved him toward Jenny with the lone instruction to calm her down while she and Ryan had held one of those efficient, whispered conferences where a whole bunch of things got decided that Castle knew he wasn't going to like, even if he could't near half of it and didn't understand the other half.

Before he knew it, Kate was pinching him hard on the back of his arm and whispering "Brave smile" so fiercely in his ear that he'd come up with something that was at least smile-_like_. It moved his lips anyway. He hadn't even registered that he was holding something until the door closed behind Ryan and Jenny, who were on their way to the emergency vet.

Once Castle _did_ register the fact that he was holding something, the words had just slipped out. But, really, it was just too much. The psychotic bursts of movement. The ominous chirping. The familiar sense of doom. It was all too much.

"Kate . . ." he trailed off. What could he say? What could _either _of them really say? He gave her a lopsided grin and that seemed to be enough for the moment. She answered with a rueful smile of her own. He breathed a little easier and focused on keeping the world's tightest seal on the bag.

Kate turned her attention to the kits. She scanned the coffee table with purpose and reached for a long, narrow platter. She popped the two remaining mushroom caps into her mouth.

"What?" she mumbled around them as she caught Castle's raised eyebrow. "I need the plate!"

She took a deep breath and shoved the plate inside the cage. With a flick of her wrist, she turned its length to span the width of the cage, creating a makeshift divider. She held up each kit, one by one, and examined it closely. Once she was satisfied, she dropped it behind the divider and moved on to the next.

Castle was torn between being turned on by her incredible heroism and factoring a really comprehensive shower into his post–ferret horror New Year's plans. Assuming that Earth and showers still existed in the wake of the ferret horror.

"I think they're fine," Kate said as she closed the cage.

Castle noted with satisfaction that she checked the latch _a lot _before throwing the cover back over it. How she knew what a "fine" ferret looked like, as opposed to one that was not fine, Castle had no idea. He supposed that the eerily still kit _and_ the Hulked out mother currently thrashing around in the pillow case were exhibits A and B for "not fine."

"Can we . . . her?" He gestured helplessly with the bag, but the words wouldn't come.

Kate shook her head. "There weren't any visible marks on the kit, but Ryan said ferret mothers will sometimes turn on their children and . . ."

Castle's mouth opened and shut rapidly. Commentary on keeping pets that killed and ate their young seemed unlikely to help at this point. He was holding the bag. He wanted to live and he would hold the bag until someone told him it was time to not be holding the bag any more. He could do that.

Kate transferred her phone from hand to hand as she alternated scrubbing her palms against her jeans. Good to know she'd probably be on board with that shower thing._ Mmm. Shower thing. _

"Lanie's not answering," she said grimly as she held the phone up. "I even tried Esposito and nothing."

"Why do we even _have_ phones if no one ever answers them?" Castle had a more extended rant prepared, but it was cut short by a particularly vicious lunge on Lila's part._ The _ferret's_ part,_ he mentally corrected himself. He wasn't about to start calling evil by its given name.

"Lanie probably switched them off in case Espo had an exit plan in place," Kate remarked almost off-handedly.

Castle blinked at her. "Would he . . . ? And she . . .?"

"Yes and yes. Resistance is futile Castle. Some day men will learn that." She gave him a short grin. "I'm going to have to go down to head them off."

Castle paled. His eyes traveled down to the bag and back up to her face. "Go . . .?"

She crossed the floor in two strides and kissed him hard. "I know. I _know,_ Castle. But you'll be fine. And I'll be right back. I promise."

He nodded and took a firmer hold on the bag.

"She'll be right back," he whispered to himself. "She'll be right back."

* * *

The knock didn't come immediately. The knock came just long enough _after_ immediately for Kate to be too far away to hear his cries for help.

"Hey! _HEY!_"

Castle had tried to tell himself that he hadn't recognized the knock. How could you recognize a knock anyway? Even though he had totally recognized that knock. But even if he hadn't, he recognized the voice. The landlord. _Shit. _

His feet couldn't decide what direction to take him in. He shuffled a few steps toward the bathroom, but no—_no_—because, sure, most of the sex den was gone, but what if the thing was still in the tub?

He thought about the bedroom briefly. _Very _briefly. The images of himself crouched between Esposito's legs, catching the ferret as she darted out from under the wastebasket were just too much.

That left the kitchen. They hadn't really even made it into the kitchen on Christmas Eve, so whatever role it had played in Conception Fest 2012 blissfully remained a mystery.

Castle raced through the swinging door and scanned the scene quickly. He darted to the stove top and lifted heavy lid of the cast iron dutch oven before he had time to think twice. Before he had a moment to feel a flare of guilt. Before his traitorous mind could suggest that Lila's—_fuck_ he had to stop thinking of her by name—chirping had taken on a distinctly terrified undertone.

He lifted the lid and dropped her in, bag and all, before he could think any of those things. He replaced the lid firmly and forbid himself from thinking of the resulting clang as one of ominous finality. Who thought like that anyway? Who the hell thought like that?

He dashed back through the door and dropped to his knees. He got his arms under the cage and made his way back to the kitchen as quickly as he dared. The kits' chirping grew louder and louder. Castle did not care to consider any further adjectives that might describe their chirping. The chirping was certainly not distressed or pitiful or plaintive. Definitely. Not.

It was, however, loud. So loud that there was no way he could risk the landlord hearing it through the kitchen door. Castle's head whipped from side to side. He had to muffle the chirping and there was only one thing for it.

He placed his hand on the stovetop. Cool to the touch and electric, not gas. They'd be fine, he told himself. Jenny and Ryan's grandchildren would be just fine. _Shit. _What was_ wrong _with his _brain? _

He yanked open the door to the oven and slid the cage in side as gently and carefully as he could. He eased the door shut again, took a deep breath, and flipped the latch to lock it.

The knock had continued all the while, occasionally punctuated by increasingly cranky sounding "HEYs!"

Castle caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on his way to the apartment door. He looked demented. He had become quite familiar with demented over the last week and he had no choice but to apply the word to his appearance at the moment. He forced himself to take five deep breaths. He smoothed one hand over his hair and told himself it'd have to do.

Mr. Marley—yes, _Marley_—was wearing the cardigan. Again. Castle hardly registered its hideousness this time. He suspected that all the rods and cones and whatever other parts of his eyes were responsible for registering hideousness had been so damaged by the initial exposure that it was just background now.

"Mr. Marley! Happy New Year!" Castle congratulated himself on the fact that he sounded only minimally demented.

The landlord's mouth opened and closed. He gave Castle a puzzled look. "Do I know you?"

_Shit. _He didn't. Of course he didn't. Castle had been lurking in the hallway/bathroom dealing with tiny phone Lanie while his mother took one for the team.

"Oh! Yeah, I guess we haven't met. But I've heard a lot about you from my mother."

"Your mother?" The landlord was not a great conversationalist. Maybe he thought the cardigan made enough of a statement that he didn't need to make the effort.

"Yes! Martha Rodgers. You met Christmas Eve."

"You're Martha's _son?_" The landlord looked Castle up and down. "She's not old enough to be your mother."

"Yes." Castle grit his teeth. "Mother is . . . remarkably well preserved."

Castle's desire to be rid of Mr. Marley and his amazing technicolor cardigan was suddenly heightened as a commotion coming from the general direction of the stairwell caught his attention. A commotion that sounded remarkably like a combination of Esposito and not-so-tiny stairwell Lanie. He had to get the landlord out of there like thirty seconds ago.

Castle did the only thing he could think of: He threw his mother under the bus.

"You know," he leaned as close to the cardigan as he dared and lowered his voice. "She was . . . uh . . . quite taken with you. And she's alone tonight."

It might be true. Castle had no idea, really. He had tuned everything out once he'd extracted her promise to vacate the loft until at least noon on New Year's Day.

He slipped his wallet from his back pocket. He found what he was looking for immediately and sent up a silent thank you for the first and only time that his mother's total lack of boundaries extended to constantly restocking his wallet with her business cards. He whipped out a pen and scrawled a cell number on the back of the card. He'd get her a new phone, new contract, new everything tomorrow. He'd get her into WitSec if he had to. He just needed to get this guy out of there. The commotion was getting closer.

"You think . . . " The landlord gave Castle a look that some might have described as "uncertain" or even "lonely."

Castle hardened his heart. Lila might be terrified. The grand-ferrets might sound plaintive. But Castle did not give a fuck about the landlord's potential loneliness and uncertainty. Mr. Marley had only himself and that cardigan to blame.

"I think if you call right away there's still time to go make an evening of it," Castle said firmly. "Mother's a night owl."

The landlord looked from Castle to the card and back again. He gave Castle a half smile. It might or might not have been a little hopeful. That was none of Castle's concern.

Mr. Marley turned and started back down the hall. Castle whipped out his phone and dashed off a text to his mother. _Your phone is about to ring. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, answer it. I OWE YOU. _

Castle hit send and collapsed against the doorframe. His sigh of relief was stillborn as Marley suddenly pulled a Columbo and turned back. "Hey, the whole reason I came up . . ."

Castle mentally reviewed the contents of the kitchen, suddenly wondering if Jenny and Ryan had anything cast iron that would be big enough to store the landlord in. Or at least heavy enough to brain him with.

"Didn't I hear a scream?" Marley finished.

Castle's attention snapped back to the older man. "A scream. Yeah. Umm . . . Bunco. Detective Ryan gets a little overstimulated. He and Mrs. Ryan went on a sherbet run to cool down."

Marley didn't look entirely convinced, but the siren song—to say nothing of the cloying perfume his mother insisted on—of the business card was too much for him. He punched the elevator button and, wonder of wonders, it arrived immediately. The landlord and his cardigan stepped on board and disappeared with a wave that might or might not have been jaunty. Jauntiness was also not Castle's problem.

The disappearance came not a moment too soon. Doors burst open at either end of the hall. Kate raced toward Castle from the left.

"I can't find them. They should be here by . . ." Kate skidded to a stop two feet shy of careening into Lanie. An extremely unhappy-looking Esposito followed two steps behind her. "Where the hell did you two come from?! How did you get in?"

"Fire escape," Lanie said shortly. Castle thought he could see a vein pounding in her temple. Probably the result of a suppressed eye roll. "It's important for Javier to feel in control of the situation."

"Secondary approach," Esposito explained as his eyes scanned the hallway continuously. "Element of surprise."

Kate just shook her head and turned to Castle. She finally seemed to pick up on his not-at-all subtle hand signals. Two-handed not-so-subtle hand signals. She raised wide, panicked eyes to his. "Castle, where . . ."

"Kate! It's fine. Everything is under . . ."

Castle's final word was lost beneath a resounding crash from inside the apartment. The kind of resounding crash that could only be made by cast iron toppling over on to a hardwood floor.

* * *

Castle's head cracked against the door frame as Esposito charged past him and disappeared down the hall. Whatever sound he was making, it wasn't quite a war cry, so the therapy must have been working already.

_Hurray_, thought Castle woozily.

Lanie dithered a moment in the doorway when she saw Castle swaying, but he waved her on. Kate followed her through. She paused and pressed up on her toes to poke at his sore scalp.

"_Ow!_" Castle grabbed her hand, but she yanked it free and examined her fingers.

"No blood. No scalp laceration. You're fine Castle."

"Yeah," he pushed off the wall and immediately fell back. "Fine."

Kate's jaw twitched once and then she was _pressing_ him into the wall. All of him. With all of her. _Pressing._

She pulled back after what might have been simultaneously the longest and shortest 30 seconds of Castle's life and breathed, "I'll kiss it better later. Promise."

"Holding you to it," Castle panted. "Now. We have a problem."

He nodded toward the swinging door to the kitchen. Kate's eyes widened. She looked from the conspicuously empty coffee table to him.

"The oven. Lila is . . . _was? . . . _ in the cast iron on top of the stove," he said faintly. "Just . . . don't ask, Kate. _Please _don't ask. Just tell Lanie to keep Esposito out of the kitchen."

As if on cue, Esposito came barreling back into the living room with Lanie on his heels.

Kate darted to the kitchen door and leaned on the wall next to it, casually blocking the entrance with her body. Castle gave her an entirely obvious thumbs up and got an eye roll for his trouble.

"Javier, you have _got_ to calm down." Lanie's tone was patient, but Castle sensed that was about to run out.

Esposito was clearly too far gone to sense it. "You listen to me, woman . . ."

Castle gasped. He couldn't help it. _Woman? _He couldn't imagine being far enough gone to call Lanie "woman" to her face.

Apparently neither could Lanie.

A sharp crack rang out. Castle's hand flew instinctively to the welts on his thigh before he realized that Esposito's head seemed to be rocking back and forth.

"Call _me_ woman," Lanie snapped as she shook out her palm. With a slap like that it had to be stinging. "You look at me right now, Javier Esposito!"

Castle wanted very badly to see what happened next, but a mysterious sound from near the kitchen drew his attention. His mind suggested that it might have been a girly scream. His mind immediately corrected itself when it registered the fact that Kate was the only one in the vicinity. _Yeah. . . no_ . . . _even if . . . just no . . . _

He was interrupted in mid-cognitive dissonance by what was _definitely_ a girly scream. There was no denying either its fundamentally girly nature of the fact that it came from him. Sadly, there was also no denying that it was related to something brushing the inside of both his ankles.

Fighting back a growing sense of dread, Castle looked down.

Lila planted her front paws, lifted her head and hissed.

Castle hissed back. It was all he could think to do. It was surprisingly effective, comparatively speaking. Lila went still. She stared up at Castle. He stared down at her.

Time snapped like a rubber band. Everything started to happen very quickly and very slowly all at the same time.

Castle heard Lanie's voice, eerily calm and distorted as though she were underwater.

"I'm asking you one last time, Javi. Are you going to calm down?"

And then Esposito's voice, desperate and defeated. "I can't, Lanie. I can't."

Suddenly it seemed like the whole room was in motion. Castle didn't mean to look. He didn't mean to take his eyes off Lila, but something silver flashed off to his right. He couldn't help it.

The moment he broke eye contact, Lila reared up on her hind legs. Her powerful, snake-like body coiled. For one instant, she was a small concentration of dense, dark muscle. In the next breath she pounced. Her body extended to its full, sickening length. Castle squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the strike that never came.

A truncated chirp rang out followed by a single curse.

Castle's eyes popped open.

Kate was on the floor at his feet, Lila squirming furiously but futilely between her hands. She grinned up at him, fierce and triumphant.

A heavy thud came from the right. Both their heads swiveled toward the sound. Lanie observed them cooly, a familiar-looking stainless steel syringe dangling from her fingers.

"He didn't give his safeword," she said with a shrug.

* * *

Against all odds, things took on a rosy cast after all the excitement. Castle and Kate hauled Esposito into an armchair with Lanie supervising, and he seemed none the worse for wear. He and Lanie—though Castle suspected it was mostly Lanie—had come up with a Doomsday Plan so that Esposito felt more in control of the situation, whatever might happen.

"No animal tranquilizers this time," Lanie said with a laugh. "And the dose is right for his body weight. Fast acting, no muss, no fuss."

"No fuss," Esposito added with a fuzzy smile. "You're right about that, girl."

A more important facet of Lanie's badass pharmaceutical skills, at least from Castle's perspective, was the fact that several of the scenarios leading up to the Doomsday Plan involved a flask absolutely filled to the tippy top with more than passable whiskey. After a few pokes at his bump and judicious application of a towel full of ice, she cleared him for consumption in moderation.

Lila had been righteously furious at being caught by a mere mortal, but a dropper full of dramamine had taken the fight out of her. They'd set her up on the coffee table under a large, inverted stainless steel colander, heavily weighted with both the dutch oven and its lid. They set the cage nearby so she could look in on the kits, which seemed to calm the whole business down.

_Business. Heh. _Castle chuckled to himself.

The three of them chatted quietly. With Kate tucked against his side, the flask making the rounds, and the occasionally hilarious check in from Mellow Town, population: Esposito, Castle was having trouble remembering why he'd been so dead set against spending the evening this way.

The sound of the key in the door suddenly reminded him of at least one reason. He squeezed Kate's shoulders as they all turned expectantly toward the door.

Jenny's face appeared first. The strain of the evening tugged at her mouth, but she was smiling and then they all were. She raised her forearm to show the barest twitch of pink nose.

"Narcolepsy," Ryan said as he locked the door behind him.

Lanie blinked. "Narcolepsy? A narcoleptic ferret?"

Kate looked from her to Ryan in confusion, but it was Castle who answered.

"It's a neurological disorder." He looked to Lanie for confirmation. She nodded. "Something about the brain's chemistry not regulating sleep cycles. People—or ferrets, I guess—just kind of . . . pass out."

"But she'll be ok?" Kate asked as Jenny carefully slid open the cage and deposited the kit with her siblings.

"She'll be fine." Jenny's smile gave way to a quizzical look as she took in the kitchenware.

Castle gave a guilty start. "Uh . . . we thought we should separate Lila in case . . ."

He trailed off awkwardly.

"Thanks. _Thank _you, Castle. Good thinking." Ryan clapped him on the shoulder and hastily moved to liberate Lila and ease her into the cage as well.

"Oh my _gosh_." Jenny clapped a hand to her mouth. "Javier!"

Ryan slipped an arm around his wife and looked to Lanie. "Is he . . . ok?"

Esposito blinked owlishly. "Partner! Mrs. Partner! I am fine. I am _better _than fine!"

* * *

Kate drove. Castle did not care. Not even a little bit. Even if it _was _his car.

He was warm through and through and he hated the annual live action Crazy Taxi game. And anyway Kate was a much better driver than him. Not that he would say that in his outside-his-head voice.

He tipped his head toward her. "Did I just say that in my outside-my-head voice?"

Kate kept her eyes on the road, but a tight-lipped smile curled the corners of her mouth up. "You didn't say anything. But it's almost midnight Castle. Good time to get things off your chest."

"Nice try, Beckett, but I'm not drunk," he said as he trailed a fingertip along the outside seam of her jeans. "I am just . . . pleasantly warm, and the only chest I plan on getting things off of is yours."

She chuckled. "I'm guessing that sounded sexier in your inside-your-head voice, Castle."

"It totally did," he assured her.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence. They pulled into the parking space in the garage under the loft.

The soft glow of the dashboard clock read ten minutes to midnight and everything seemed suddenly urgent to Castle. He clawed his way out of the seatbelt, fighting the heavy warmth of his limbs. He staggered out the door only to find Kate still behind the wheel.

He shoved his head back into the car, practically dancing with urgency. "Kate! Come on!"

She unlatched her seatbelt with excruciating slowness. Castle darted around to the driver's side. He yanked the door open and reached in to drag her out. The very last of his self-preservation intervened before he actually laid hands on her.

Kate planted one foot on the garage floor and gave him a look that confirmed this as an excellent idea. She planted a second foot and stood toe to toe with him, pinning his body against the side of the car. "What's your hurry, Castle?"

Castle gulped. That warm, heavy feeling was back with a vengeance, but the urgency got the better of him.

"You! Me! Matchy underwear! And my _bump!_ You promised!" It was somewhere between a whisper and a yelp. He grabbed her wrist and turned her watch toward him. He looked at her, wide eyed. "Eight minutes, Kate! Only _eight! _We can skip the shower thing, but you have all those _buttons._"

Kate wasn't up to it. Her cool facade crumbled. She kissed him, quick and eager, and tugged him toward the elevator.

"Come on, Castle! I'll give you a head start on the buttons."

A/N: Thank you all for bearing with both "Silent Night, Ferret Night" and this even sillier sequel. In case you're curious, some ferrets are actually afflicted with narcolepsy. There's your fun mustelid fact to start the new year with!


End file.
